❦♰❀ reddie smut ☿✿☆

13. stupid deep

by: anon
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The first time Eddie saw Richie's dick, he made a sound that Richie later calls a scream, but Eddie insists was just a...startled yelp. Which isn't much better, but he stands by it.

They'd only been living together a couple of weeks. Eddie had visited on a whim after signing the divorce papers and then just kind of...never left. And then eventually had more and more of his things shipped in from New York. And then started paying half the rent. And bought his own hypoallergenic sheets. He and probably Richie both figured it was some kind of midlife crisis, the sudden trip to L.A. and the hesitance to go back which turned into refusal. But then he just. Got comfortable there. And the thought of New York and living alone were so repulsive that Eddie just pretended to have forgotten he hadn't lived here all along.

The point is, it'd been less than a month—Eddie didn't have the sheets yet—and Richie wasn't used to having a roommate yet, and he walked out of the shower bare-ass naked, and Eddie looked up from washing dishes at the sink and made The Noise.

Richie froze and stared at him. Eddie stared back. Richie was just...standing there, dripping on the floor, and Eddie just. He just stared. One thought whirled through his brain, pinging off the inside of his skull.

Who the fuck needs a dick that big.

It was just—absurdly big. Eddie remembers, at the back of his mind, Richie making a lot of stupid jokes about his big dick as a kid, and Eddie thought he was fucking joking. He never, never thought Richie's jokes were anything other than gross over-exaggeration. And maybe they were at the time, Eddie never fucking saw it, but god, now. Just. What the fuck?

And the second thought he had, when he got over the general shock of it, was, Oh my god, I want it in me.

So. That was...something.

It's been five months since then, and Eddie has spent at least 40% of that time thinking about Richie's big fucking dick. He spends about 20% working from home, 20% arguing with Richie about dumb shit, and the remaining 30% sleeping—this adds up to 110%, but that's because there's overlap between the sleeping and the thinking about Richie's huge dick in the form of extremely graphic dreams.

He thinks about Richie's dick in the shower. He thinks about Richie's dick when they're watching TV together. He thinks about Richie's dick when he's trying to eat breakfast. He hasn't even seen it hard. But god, he thinks about it. Thinks about it hot and thick in his hand, thinks about it twitching as Eddie strokes it, thinks about it stretching his lips, thinks about it leaking precum all over Eddie's fingers and tongue and stomach. And, most importantly—most vividly—he thinks about Richie's dick inside of him, filling him up, fucking him.

At the same time, Eddie also spent a good amount of time, woven through the rest of his daily activities, falling so deeply in love with his best-friend-cum-roommate that it was disturbing at best. There was pining. There were lingering glances. There was lying on Richie's bed while he was out just to ease the ache in his chest with Richie's warm, familiar scent, which is disgusting and Eddie hates to think about it. There were, in Eddie's darkest moments, daydreams about Richie holding his hand and kissing him and telling Eddie he's in love with him. Like a fucking sap.

But that's all over now. Finally, it's fucking over. There was a big Moment, followed by some Scary Fucking Confessions, with a bit in the middle where Eddie really thought everything was going to go to shit and almost threw up but everything turned out fine. More than fine. Because now, they're making out on the couch, and Eddie is in Richie's lap with his knees on either side of Richie's thighs, and their mouths are possibly fused together, and it's really fucking good. And Eddie does not plan to leave anytime soon.